High Hurdles Read Online Free Page B

Diablo?”
    “They . . . the Ortegas moved to Texas and took him away.”
    “Without telling you?”
    “Even Bridget didn’t know. And now I don’t have a horse to compete with this summer.” DJ wanted to go on to say that if her mother spent less money on clothes, she might have some cash to buy her daughter a horse, but she didn’t. She’d heard the argument too many times: “Fashionable clothes help make sales, and if I don’t make sales, we don’t eat.”
    “I’m sorry. I wish I could help, but right now my company is talking about cutting back. What little I have saved might have to tide us over if I get laid off.”
    “You’ve been their best rep for the last two years, Mom. Why would they let you go?” When would her mother think of something besides her job and getting her next degree? DJ had a whole slew of questions that she kept hidden in a box in her mind. A box labeled Mother .
    “Well, when I get my Masters of Business Administration, they’ll have to take notice. If they don’t, I’ll find a better job.” She nodded as if to convince herself. “So I better get to studying.”
    “So what’s new?” DJ mumbled in spite of her promise to herself not to be a smart mouth.
    “Darla Jean, I’m doing this as much for you as for me.”
    “Right. Sorry.” There, she’d done it again. Why couldn’t they just talk like Amy and her mother did? Instead, she couldn’t keep from giving a smart answer every time her mom said something.
    “Well, I am doing this for you. And a little gratitude might go a long way.” Lindy flounced out of the room, leaving a trail of expensive perfume.
    DJ heaved a sigh and set her sketch pad down on the double bed. This certainly hadn’t been one of her better days. She uncrossed her legs and slid to the edge of the bed. Gran would remind her that her mother was under a great deal of pressure. That selling equipment such as guns and flak vests to police departments and sheriffs’ offices was usually a man’s job. That her mother felt the need to be so much better than the male sales representatives in order to keep her position.
    DJ had heard the story too many times to count. She tried to remember the last time her mother had made it to one of her events. Her mom had missed the horse shows, the art fair at school—even missed her thirteenth birthday.
    DJ trailed a hand on the banister on her way down to Gran’s sunroom that extended from the family room. She knew she’d find her grandmother curled up in her tattered but comfortable wing chair. She’d be reading a mystery, her favorite kind of book. Or else writing a letter. Gran was great about writing letters to her two sisters who still lived where they grew up in Georgia.
    But Gran wasn’t in her chair. She wasn’t hiding behind an easel, sneaking in some extra work hours. She wasn’t in the kitchen making their favorite snack—popcorn, slathered with butter.
    “Gran?” DJ checked the laundry room and glanced out at the deck.
    Coming back through the French doors, she heard the murmur of voices from her mother’s room. DJ grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the kitchen counter and ambled up the stairs. She started to tap on the almost-closed door to her mother’s room but stopped.
    “But I just don’t know what to say to her.” Lindy sounded depressed.
    “She took the news of losing Diablo pretty hard.”
    “Oh really? She barely mentioned it. She never talks to me, unless it’s a smart remark. Was this the way I was at her age?”
    A soft chuckle. “No, you were much worse. You were boy crazy by twelve.”
    “Yeah, and look what it got me.”
    DJ couldn’t hear Gran’s answer.
    “At least boys aren’t a problem—are they?” A pause. “Oh, Mother, I don’t know how you stood it.”
    “The good Lord’s grace, that’s how. You might find it, too, if you asked.”
    “I don’t need you preaching to me.” The tone switched to harsh resentment.
    “You asked, I told you. Now